


see you again

by tenderybitch (FictitiousFanatisch)



Category: NCT (Band), WayV (Band)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hand Jobs, Kissing, M/M, Making Out, Oral Sex, Porn with Feelings, Reunion Sex, Separation, Smut, tsundere sicheng, yuwin being in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-06-18
Packaged: 2020-05-14 01:16:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19263031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FictitiousFanatisch/pseuds/tenderybitch
Summary: No span of time with Sicheng could ever be enough, but right now Yuta just wishes he had more.





	see you again

**Author's Note:**

> Sup guys so this takes place in like the brief week or so NCT 127 came back to Korea after the US leg of Neo City. For the sake of this fic and making the separation more painful, let’s just assume Sicheng hadn't seen Yuta since he started promoting with WayV. I mean... that’s what SM would have us believe so… but since they prolly live right next to each other, I find it HIGHLY unlikely that they didn't still see each other and hang out and stuff. (like BRO i NEED to see some WayV x NCT interactions :((((( !!!) But anyway, enjoy the pain of this fic. They still had to be apart when Yuta was on tour and promoting Superhuman and WayV was promoting Take Off. Title based on the song by Mondo Grosso. ENJOY!

 

“I missed you,” Yuta breathes, sliding his arms around Sicheng’s waist. He draws the younger man into his chest, tucking his chin over his shoulder. 

“Hyung,” Sicheng whines, but he returns the hug, resting his palms on the small of Yuta’s back. 

Yuta knows he doesn’t like being coddled like this, never has. But it’s been more than three months since they’ve been in the same place at the same time and he just can’t help himself.

Tonight Sicheng came back to their dorm for the first time since WayV promotions began. He walked in the front door with a soft and idle expression, headphones in his ears, his bag slung over his shoulder and everyone had rushed him like a swarm of sasaengs. He couldn’t blame Donghyuk for locking him in a bone crushing hug, or Taeil hyung for trying to force a wet, sloppy kiss on his cheek. 

He contained his excitement while everyone greeted and nearly drowned him in a sea of questions about promotions overseas. And Sicheng shot back with questions about tour and the album. Only when everyone had eaten and had their fair share of Winwin did Yuta disappear into their shared room for the evening.

Although Sicheng had texted only him and Taeyong that he was coming tonight, Yuta still hadn’t had a chance to sort out his thoughts. There were so many things that happened while they were apart, so many funny stories and incredible things he wanted to tell Sicheng, but he just couldn’t seem to focus on anything besides this terrible ache in the pit of his stomach.

He didn’t want to get too emotional and cry or something equally embarrassing like they all expected him to. Jaehyun already teased him enough for being so quiet at dinner. It was much harder than he thought it would be to watch Sicheng pack his things and leave the dorm. He left a cold, vacant space in the room they shared with Taeil. Even while they were busy practicing, performing and promoting, his absence was painfully felt.

“Ya, say you missed me too,” Yuta whines back, his voice muffled in the soft cotton of Sicheng’s shirt. He closes his eyes, losing himself in the boy’s familiar scent.

“Maybe later,” he chuckles. Yuta doesn’t want this moment to end. It’s rare that Sicheng indulges his affection like this. But he can already feel the boy starting to pull away. So Yuta holds him tighter, making a soft sound of protest in the back of his throat. Sicheng sighs, but stills. 

Another long moment of silence stretches between them before he speaks up again. 

“Can I least change?” Sicheng wonders, patting Yuta’s hip. 

“Nope,” he answers after a breath.

“Hyung,” he whines again, “Don’t do this,”

“What? The least you could do is let me hold you after you _abandoned_ me—” Yuta starts as he finally retreats from Sicheng’s warmth. The younger frowns at him, his head tilting to the side cutely. 

“—replaced me, and ignored my messages on top of all that,”

“I did no such things,” Sicheng laughs, his eyes gleaming with amusement even in the dim yellow light of their room.

And when Sicheng smiles like that — Yuta is suddenly struck by just how beautiful he is. He’s nothing like he was three months ago, his hair a deep, dark mahogany, black t-shirt stretched taut over sinewy muscles. Yet somehow, he’s exactly the same. He carries the same thoughts, feelings, and energy Yuta is used to, although he seems different somehow. Confident. Happier, maybe. Like everything else, it looks good on him.

“But I always text you back,” he insists. He drags his bag up onto his empty bed, unzipping it and tugging out a pair of pajama bottoms.

“Lies. For every ten of my messages, you’ll send like, one,” Yuta huffs, already unlocking his phone for the evidence to support his argument.

“I’ve been busy,” Sicheng says in his defense, shrugging. He changes out of his jeans, shooting Yuta a dark smile as he tosses them in a thoughtless heap at the end of his bed and pulls his pajama pants on one leg at a time. 

“Oh, and I haven’t?” Yuta cuts, trying his hardest not to smile. He misses this, just this, talking with Sicheng, the back and forth, teasing him about nothing only to hold his attention. 

“See- look at this,” Yuta raises his phone screen, a pointed look on his face. Sicheng steps forward, squinting a little to see just what Yuta is referring to.

_omygod_

_I love you_

_you’re so beautiful_

_you look SOOO GOOD in the MV_

_I miss you_

_I miss you so much_

_I love you_

_text me back_

_My angel sicheng_

_I missssssyouuuuuuu_

_ugh you’re so annoying_

_just respond_

_jk i love you_

The string of text messages is from awhile ago, about a month, but Yuta never, ever lets anything go. Especially when it comes to Winwin. 

He can be content with a few words of praise every now and then; he has to be. But that doesn’t mean he isn’t desperate to drag more and more of the boys love out of him whenever he gets the chance.

“You sent those all in like a minute; you didn’t even give me time to respond,” Sicheng argues, using the pad of his index finger to scroll down the message thread. 

“And I eventually replied, look—,”

“Yeah a _whole_ day later,” Yuta bites back. It’s of course an exaggeration. He sent the messages close to midnight and Sicheng technically hadn’t answered them until the following day for him. For Sicheng, it had actually been sometime in the early afternoon, so none of it really applies.  

Sicheng protests, smacking Yuta’s phone out of his hands and flopping down onto the mattress next to him. He curls himself in a fetal position behind the older, snaking his arms around his waist. He squeezes Yuta playfully, trying to divert his attention from the fact that he didn’t text him enough while they were apart.

“I’m sorry,” he draws it out, hoping Yuta can hear his sincerity. Even if he is joking, Sicheng knows him well enough to know that deep, deep down, he definitely isn’t.

“It’s okay,” Yuta sighs dramatically.

“I forgive you,”

He wraps his fingers around Sicheng’s wrists, smoothing his thumbs along the soft skin, feeling out the dainty bones underneath. 

They play almost everything off as a joke these days, but they both felt how difficult it was to be away from each other, especially for so long. Before Sicheng left, they saw each other nearly every day for the last three years. They ate together, slept together, and watched anime in Yuta’s bed until Sicheng dozed off, weary head resting on his bony shoulder. Yuta hates the thought that things won’t be that way again for a little while longer.

“You’re too good to me,” Sicheng mumbles, sitting up slowly. Yuta covers his hands with his completely, keeping them close in fear that he would try to pull them away. 

“I know,” Yuta says. They sit together in relative silence for a few minutes, just savoring each other’s presence. He knows Sicheng missed him a lot, too, even if the younger still hasn’t admitted it.

He turns his head to the left a little to see if he can decipher what the younger is thinking and is surprised to find Sicheng’s face just– right there. Yuta clutches his chest, startled. The boy smiles cutely at him.

But Sicheng is close now, super close, like–close enough that Yuta can see all of his little imperfections, count his dark eyelashes and feel his shallow breath hitting his top lip. And while they’ve known each other for years and Yuta’s been in love with him for even longer, Sicheng still makes his heart seize up in his chest.

Yuta‘s gaze flickers down to Sicheng’s mouth, then back up to his eyes. He doesn’t move or speak, feeling like he would surely shatter the fragile moment suspended in thin air around them. He can’t quite read the expression on Sicheng’s face either, but he’s not sure he needs to. He knows what the other is thinking. 

His theory is proven correct when Sicheng closes the space between them, placing the softest of kisses on his bottom lip. Yuta kisses back gently, a warm feeling blooming in his chest.

Sicheng pulls back to look at him, sinking his teeth into his lower lip. 

“What?” Yuta asks, smoothing his palm from Sicheng’s wrist to his forearm. 

Sicheng smiles, looking down between them. Yuta whines, asking him again.

“Nothing,” he insists, and

“I _promise_ ,” when Yuta‘s eyes narrow.

He doesn’t believe him. 

Sicheng shakes his head and leans back in, fitting his mouth against his once more. And then pretty much all of Yuta’s thoughts dissipate. When he’s kissing Sicheng, he feels powerless, weightless, like the world is breaking off into tiny pieces around them.

He lets his eyes fall shut for the second time that evening, trying to commit as much of this moment to memory as possible. He knows he’ll cherish it when Sicheng is multiple countries away and he’s alone again. 

He could kiss him for hours like this, Yuta thinks. It’s pretty much the only thing he can think about when Sicheng pushes his tongue against his, curling his hand around the back of his neck and fingering the soft hairs there. He tightens his grip around Sicheng’s arm, needing to feel grounded, especially when the younger is making him feel like this, like he needs to reevaluate all of the complicated feelings he thought he had all figured out.

Sicheng moves his other hand to Yuta’s front, feeling down his chest and reaching blindly for the hem of his shirt. Yuta’s hand directs Sicheng’s where it wants to go and Sicheng clutches the fabric in his fist, slowly moving to lay back against the bed and using the leverage to drag Yuta down on top of him.

Yuta takes this movement as permission to slide his arms back around Sicheng’s waist, stitching their fronts together. His lips find Sicheng’s again with ease, tilting his head just a bit to deepen the kiss. The younger makes a pleased noise against him and Yuta feels a shiver run through his body.

Sicheng caresses the back of Yuta’s head, fingers sliding up into his hair as Yuta’s hands twist in the fabric of Sicheng’s shirt. He draws the younger boy impossibly closer to him, breath hardening as everything catches up to him, all the feelings he’d been forced to set aside while they were apart.

“Sicheng,” he murmurs, pulling away to catch his breath. Sicheng’s eyes flutter open, focusing on Yuta’s face. 

“Yuta,” he answers, interlocking his fingers behind Yuta’s neck. 

He takes a moment to just look at Sicheng, admire him, take in his breathless expression, the steady rise and fall of his diaphragm between them, how he tucks the skin of his red, kiss swollen bottom lip behind his top row of teeth in this cute, yet sickeningly sensual way - all of it is a lot for anyone, let alone Yuta, to handle.

“You look so pretty right now,” he finally manages to say.

The warm glow of embarrassment spreads across Sicheng’s face, his lips twitching as he tries to hide just how much the statement affects him. The younger pretends not to like Yuta’s endless stream of affection, but the truth is, he’s just shy and can’t take a compliment, still doesn’t believe he’s worthy. 

“Fuck, I missed you so much,” Yuta admits, shameless. He grips one of Sicheng’s hands, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. 

Sicheng watches him silently, the embarrassed smile slowly sliding from his face and settling into a soft, enamored expression. His eyes are full of the love he isn’t always confident to express. But that’s okay. Yuta kisses him again, slow and sweet, content to feel whatever Sicheng feels instead. 

He flicks the tip of his tongue out against Sicheng’s and the boy practically melts into his embrace. He gently sucks Yuta’s tongue up against the roof of his mouth, tilting his head back. The younger’s careful fingers creep up the back of his shirt and settle on the curve of his spine to trace soothing circles against his overheated skin. It’s comforting, but Yuta doesn’t want to be comfortable.

He cups Sicheng’s jaw, pressing his thumb against his chin to part his lips even more. He licks in deeper, so deep he’s surely tickling his gag reflex and Sicheng squirms under him, digging blunt nails into the base of his spine. Yuta recognizes this as a silent plea for him to come closer, and he complies, sliding one leg between Sicheng’s and hooking his ankle behind his calf. He aligns the length of their bodies–lips to lips, chest to chest.

He can feel Sicheng’s heartbeat thrumming against his, separated by two layers of fabric, muscle and bone. He wishes he could get closer than this, completely lose himself in the younger boy, become one with him so they could never be separated.

Yuta’s lips move down his jaw, to his neck. His right hand curls against one side of Sicheng’s throat while he attaches his mouth to the other. He sucks softly at Sicheng’s Adam’s apple, lifting his knee just a fraction so it presses against his sensitive inner thighs. Sicheng’s breath shortens, an overwhelmed sound catching in the back of his throat.

He tugs the collar of Sicheng’s shirt down and nips at the flesh beneath his collarbone, low enough to conceal his mark from any prying eyes. He soothes the reddened skin with his tongue, closing his lips around it. 

Yuta can feel him stiff against his hip, but he knows the boy would rather die than say he wants anything. He gets relatively quiet when they’re tangled up like this, his mind whirring with wild thoughts and sensations Yuta knows he struggles to externalize.

Sicheng arches his hips up, trying to catch some friction against Yuta’s body. He whimpers, brow furrowing in frustration when he doesn’t get what he wants. With one last kiss to his clavicle, Yuta leans up, cupping Sicheng’s face.

“What do you want?” he breathes out against Sicheng’s warm cheek, feeling down the length of his torso. He trails the back of his finger across the front of his pants and Sicheng exhales shakily, eyes flitting shut.

“Hm?” Yuta hums, kissing the edge of his jaw, curling his fingers around the shape of him through the fabric. Sicheng bucks up against his hand, impatient as always. 

“I don’t care,” Sicheng says, his voice tight.

“Just want you,” 

A lovely feeling flutters in Yuta’s stomach at that, a mixture of love and lust, pain and pleasure, of Sicheng wanting him, and then the thought of not being able to have him. Yuta kisses him hard.

Sicheng tugs at the hem of Yuta’s shirt, trying to work it up over his shoulders. Yuta notices and pulls away momentarily to drag it up over his head. He smiles at the younger boy, crossing his arms over his chest when he sees Sicheng’s eyes roaming his torso. Sicheng rolls his eyes, batting Yuta’s arms away.

Yuta runs hungry hands down Sicheng’s body, curling his fingers under the hem of his shirt, lifting it and dropping his mouth against his lower belly. The skin is smooth and hot under Yuta’s lips, he smells so good, and his tight muscles ripple just slightly when he breathes— Yuta digs his fingers into the flesh of Sicheng’s thighs, an animalistic urge completely taking over him when he bites down on his hip. The younger inhales sharply, arching his back. Yuta pulls away to admire the imprint of his teeth in the boy’s skin.

“Hyung,” Sicheng murmurs, threading his fingers through Yuta’s hair, feeling its rough, damaged texture. Yuta looks up. 

Sicheng‘s tongue darts out against his bottom lip. The word ghosts over his delicate features, lips moving around its shape before he somehow brings himself to say it. 

“Please,” he begs, his eyes screwing shut. Yuta takes pity on him, his heart wrenching at the thought of Sicheng having to beg for anything.   

“Take this off,” Yuta pushes at Sicheng’s shirt, and the boy complies, tossing it over the side of the bed and onto the floor. Yuta’s eyes widen at the expanse of skin he’s just revealed, and he’s overwhelmed with the desire to touch and taste and kiss and bite– 

Sicheng crosses his arms over his chest, mimicking Yuta’s earlier action. The older laughs, because Sicheng just looks so cute, he’s so lovely and Yuta thinks he would like to have him and hold him for the rest of his life. 

He holds Sicheng’s gaze as he mouths down his torso, dragging rough fingers through his innocent skin. He hooks them under the waist of Sicheng’s pants and tugs them down his thighs in one swift motion. Yuta then leans down, parting his lips to let his warm breath hit the outline of Sicheng’s dick through his briefs. 

Sicheng holds his breath, trying his best to stay still as Yuta kisses him gently through the tight material. He watches Yuta with hooded eyes, tensing beneath his feather-light, barely-there touches.

“Hyung,” he twists, thoroughly agitated with the teasing. 

Yuta smirks, digging his nails into the tender flesh behind Sicheng’s knee as he licks a long, fat stripe across the front of his pants. The boy gasps, pushing his head back against the mattress. The sound is music to Yuta’s ears; it only urges him to do more.

He mouths hot and wet over the hard line of Sicheng’s length, pausing just over the the head to suckle it softly through the fabric. Sicheng’s exhales heavily, his eyelids tightening and his lips parting like he’s not quite sure how to process what he’s feeling. Yuta watches him like an addict, desperately drinking in all his little sounds and reactions. He loves this, loves making Sicheng speechless with this feeling and that he’s the only one who can make him feel like this.

Yuta toys with the waistband of Sicheng’s briefs for a second too long and the younger is so anxious to feel _something_ that he pushes them down himself, his erection springing free. Yuta smooths his hands up Sicheng’s soft thighs, cupping his pelvic bones. His eyes fall to Sicheng’s length, lingering for a moment. Sicheng’s usually shy about his body, especially his dick, but he’s far too turned on to care—the pent up sexual frustrations of the past few months inhibiting him from even really noticing that he’s exposed.

Yuta doesn’t want to keep him waiting any longer, so he takes Sicheng into his mouth, swallowing him down with practiced ease. The younger man moans, overwhelmed, his hands sliding into Yuta’s hair once more.

He can’t even remember the last time they did this. In the weeks before Sicheng left they were both too busy with their own projects to find a long enough moment alone. And in the spare moments they did find to be alone, they were always just too tired to do much other than cuddle and kiss. This is just so long overdue. 

After four boring months of work and responsibilities and fans and performances, Sicheng ignites something within him Yuta didn’t even know was still there. He’s nervous and excited and hungry the same way he was the first time they ever tried anything. He feels so hot beads of sweat are forming on his brow, his vision is blurry at the corners of his eyes, and his heart is so erratic in his chest that he’s sure he’ll soon self destruct.

He salivates, coating Sicheng’s length as well as he can before pulling off to wrap one hand around him. He runs his free hand down Sicheng’s thigh as he loops his thumb and forefinger around the tip of his dick, dragging his palm to the base. He sucks the tip back into his mouth and Sicheng cards his fingers through Yuta’s long, thin bangs, holding his hair out of the way. 

Yuta bobs his head twice, manages to hold eye contact with Sicheng as he sinks down on his length. The younger watches until his eyes roll back, mouth falling slack. He squeezes the younger boy’s hip comfortingly, soothing his tense muscles. He swirls his tongue into the wet, pink head, rubbing it back and forth along the underside before he pulls off. He wipes the saliva from his chin with the back of his hand.

“Good?” he asks, a tiny wave of insecurity rolling over in his stomach.

Sicheng nods once, staring at him like he’s made of gold. Yuta can’t help the blush that crawls up his neck. He spends most of his time looking at Sicheng, so he always feels a bit awkward when Sicheng is looking at him. 

“Let me,” Sicheng suddenly pleads, curling his fingers around Yuta’s elbow and drawing him back up to his level. 

The older moves quickly, crawling over Sicheng’s torso, flattening his arms on either side of his head. Sicheng holds him, gliding his hands down his sides until they rest on his hips. One of his shaky, unsure hands moves to the front of his joggers and Yuta peers down between them to watch, anticipation tingling along his nerve endings. He is so turned on he can barely think, so hard in his pants for this boy beneath him. He can’t bear the thought of this feeling coming to an end, but he knows it’s over as soon as Sicheng touches him.

His heart drops to his stomach when that hand slips underneath the waistband of his boxers. Sicheng kisses him once, pulling back to watch his expression as he wraps his fingers around him in his pants, giving him a gentle squeeze. Yuta hangs his head, gaze fixed on Sicheng.

Sicheng retrieves his hand and drags the flat of his tongue across his palm. Yuta watches him pensively, knowing it’s not going to be enough to ease the glide. He moves to rest his weight on one hand, snatching Sicheng’s hand up in his other. He holds the younger’s gaze as he brings it up to his mouth, purses his lips and spits in the center of his palm. Sicheng swallows hard, heat rising on his cheeks as he fits the hand back into Yuta’s pants. He closes his fingers around Yuta’s length once more, dragging his fist down to the tip and the older loses himself in the touch. 

Sicheng’s hand is so soft and steady; he touches Yuta in this achingly familiar way, the same way he always does—hesitant, like he doesn’t know what he’s doing. But Yuta knows for a fact that he does. It’s that very concept that turns him on so much–the idea of his sweet Sicheng, innocent and shy and adored by everyone– with his hand down his pants, fisting him slowly, driving him mad. _The irony,_  Yuta thinks. It’s similar to the paradox of their flamboyant relationship, broadcasted for the world to see, yet its true nature meticulously hidden.

Yuta really wishes Sicheng could fuck him. It’s a stupid thought, he knows. They’re in a dorm with eight others and if Yuta listens closely, he can hear them wandering around, laughing, talking, playing games in the living room, washing up in the kitchen. They’re lucky Taeil and the others can take a hint. But it’s been so long and Yuta’s so desperate and he can’t stop the images of the last time from taking over. Just the thought, of Sicheng holding him down against the mattress like he did, biting the nape of his neck as he eases into him from behind, turns him on so much. His breaths hasten, another near-painful jolt of arousal pulsing through him at the mere thought of feeling Sicheng inside him again.

Sicheng tightens his hold on him, quickening the movement of his wrist. Yuta inhales sharply, bucking into his ministrations. He feels hot, his skin prickling at the sensation curling up his neck, the pleasure growing in his belly. He feels down their bodies for Sicheng’s dick, standing hot and hard between them. He spits in his own hand, then grips him tightly, jerking him off at a similar pace. 

Sicheng puts his free hand on Yuta’s neck, steadying him as he angles his head up to fit their mouths together. The kiss is good, albeit short lived and sloppy because neither of them can really focus when they’re this riled up. Yuta pants against Sicheng’s top lip, and Sicheng tugs at Yuta’s bottom lip with his teeth and it sounds like a hot mess, but right now Yuta just thinks everything is hot. 

“Does it feel good?” Sicheng asks him, struggling to stay in control of his voice. Yuta nods quickly.

“You?”

“Yeah hyung,” Sicheng breathes, his eyelashes dusting his cheekbones. Yuta’s breath hitches at just how beautiful Sicheng looks like this with his face flushed, chest rising and falling fast, sweat beading on his brow and curling the thin ends of his bangs. Suddenly the only thing that matters is bringing him sweet release. 

“Don’t stop,” Yuta tells him, pleasure pulling at his insides.

It isn’t long before he feels that familiar warmth blooming between his thighs, but he fights it to focus on the younger boy. He can tell Sicheng is close - he looks so fucking good when he’s close.

Yuta hastens his pace, dragging his lips along Sicheng’s jawline as he tightens the loop of his thumb and index finger under the slick, pink head, fist flying over his length. The younger digs his first two fingers into the tender skin of Yuta’s nape, holding him near as he approaches his climax.

Sicheng’s losing focus, his strokes growing sloppy. He whimpers against Yuta’s temple, curling his fingers in the roots of his hair and pulling.

Yuta isn’t sure exactly when it happens, but at some point Sicheng tenses, the warmth of his orgasm engulfing his entire body, ricocheting up his spine and concentrating at the front of his skull. The boy moans against him, voice breaking  as he comes, pulsing warm and wet over Yuta’s knuckles. The older strokes him through it, trailing sticky sweet kisses up his neck and jaw until he reaches his lips.

Sicheng doesn’t stop stroking him, only picks up the pace until Yuta’s cursing and burying his head in the crook of Sicheng’s neck and shoulder. Yuta bites down there, rocking in the rhythm of his ministrations. It’s really only another minute before Yuta feels his vision blurring, familiar pressure building between his hips. Sicheng roughly rubs the pad of his thumb over Yuta’s sensitive head and he shudders before coming hot and hard across the younger man’s abdomen. He rides the high as long as he possibly can, then slumps against Sicheng, tucking his head against his chest.

Yuta is instantly swept by a typhoon of exhaustion. Every muscle in his body feels like it’s made of lead. The only remedy for this discomfort is the presence of the boy beneath him, soothing his mind, body and soul.

“Fuck,” Yuta exhales, his voice muffled in the flesh of Sicheng’s right pec.

“What?” Sicheng wonders, craning his neck downward to try and see the other’s face.

Yuta is silent at first. He’s wondering how he should express the thoughts circling his mind.

This wasn’t at all how he expected this night to go. Despite Yuta’s sentimental inner monologue, they both finished embarrassingly fast. He thought for sure he would have the wherewithal to draw this out a little longer and make this reunion sex a hell of a lot kinkier to make up for the months they spent separated.

But he can’t really commit to feeling disappointed when he glances up and sees Sicheng soft and sated, his breaths evening out as he comes down. The younger man smiles at him innocently, so Yuta shelves whatever personal expectations he had for another time.

“I came really fast,” he answers, tracing a finger down Sicheng’s sternum.

“I came _before_ you,” Sicheng tuts, squeezing his shoulder.

“I just feel like that was really anticlimactic,”

“Wow… so now sex with me is anticlimactic,” Sicheng shoots back.

Yuta sits up, his eyes wide. He cannot believe Sicheng just jumped to that conclusion. And they say Yuta the overly sensitive one. Part of him is ready to fight while the other already feels guilty. And for a long moment Sicheng holds a stern, hurt expression before finally breaking into a grin, curling his arms around Yuta’s neck and tugging him back into his embrace.

“I hate you,” Yuta mutters, tugging weakly as if trying to escape the younger‘s strong hold.

“That’s really awkward for me then,” he giggles, his breath warm where it hits the shell of Yuta’s ear. 

“And why is that?” 

“Because,” Sicheng mumbles, voice trailing off. Yuta’s eyes narrow.

“‘Because’ what?”

“ _‘Because’…_ hyung,” Sicheng hides his face in Yuta’s neck.  

“ _‘Because_ … hyung,’ what?” Yuta is getting impatient. 

“Because…” Sicheng starts again and Yuta is milliseconds from telling him not to even bother when– 

“I love you,” is what comes out. 

It’s a little crazy, Yuta thinks, that after all this time he still can’t figure the boy out. He knows Sicheng loves him, and has a large capacity to do so, but he doesn’t go around just saying that. He loves in very unique, and often misinterpreted ways. Speaking that love is not really one of those ways, so Yuta can’t even pretend to be unaffected by his words.

“ _Ya–_ how can you say you love me if you didn’t even miss me?” Yuta notes offhandedly as he reaches over Sicheng toward the box of tissues on the nightstand. He hands him a wad of tissues, quirking his brow in question.

“ _Ya–_ when did I say I didn’t miss you?” Sicheng replies. Yuta rolls his eyes as he wipes Sicheng’s sticky release from between his fingers. 

“You never said you did,” he pouts, briefly considering that if Sicheng were another sweet boy with soft skin and wide eyes, he would feel hurt by how difficult Yuta is being tonight. They don’t have all the time in the world to be together and even less of that time alone. 

“I did miss you,” Sicheng concedes, his voice suddenly quiet.

“I missed you so much—it’s weird, like, I still kind of miss you even though you’re right here,” 

Yuta’s heart shatters. It’s moments like these he remembers just how much he loves Sicheng too.

“I know what you mean,” he says. 

“I thought it would be okay, like, right after I left. A couple of days passed, then a week, then two, and I figured I could make it,” Sicheng starts, closing his eyes as if it helps him remember just how he felt at that time.

”I missed you like, as soon as you left the dorm. But there were a lot of distractions at first. It didn’t hit hard until I realized just how long you’d be gone,” Yuta responds. They were recording, rehearsing, then promoting and touring in the US. Their days were filled with long, endless stretches of both work and play, but in the still of the night and in a cold, unfamiliar bed, he couldn’t escape the pang in his chest for his absent teammate.

“At night, when I was alone–,”

“That’s when I missed you the most,” Sicheng cuts him off, meeting his gaze almost sheepishly.

Yuta knows how hard it is for him to talk like this. They’re not like other couples. They could spend hours (and they have) working through hypothetical situations, but when it comes to revealing how they actually feel, it’s quite rare Sicheng has this much to say. That rarity is what makes these moments so intense, so intoxicating. 

“I found myself counting the days until I would see you again,” he mumbles. It’s incredible how perfectly his words describe how Yuta felt, and honestly, still feels. He’s glad this separation didn’t damage their connection. In some ways, it seemed to connect them even more.  

But Yuta doesn’t want to test that theory. It’s not supposed to be like this. He needs Sicheng by his side-- his lover, his fighter, his partner in crime. He doesn’t want this life if it’s without him.

“This is so fucked,” Yuta sighs, placing Sicheng’s hand on the side of his face.

He hates that this separation isn’t even over yet. Now that WayV has debuted, Sicheng is a permanent member of the unit and has to participate in all activities henceforth. After tonight, Yuta doesn’t even know when he’ll get to see Sicheng like this again, and that thought makes him feel more sick to his stomach than he’d care to admit.

“I know,” Sicheng strokes his cheekbone with the pad of his thumb.

“But… we’re together now,” Yuta offers a sad smile, “At least we have right now,” 

Sicheng nods, lowering his gaze. He doesn’t seem too convinced that it’s enough. And Yuta agrees; it’s not even close. No span of time with Sicheng could ever be enough, but right now Yuta just wishes he had more.

He tucks himself into the younger man’s side, draping one arm over his midsection. Sicheng curls his arm around Yuta’s neck, drawing him closer. He inhales the sweet scent of his lover and for a moment he tries to forget that this warm body beside him will be long gone by morning.  

 

**Author's Note:**

> yuwin tag be dry af !! y'all sleep on my kings... anyway i miss sicheng but taeyong said not to worry so i'm holding it together. 
> 
> thanks for reading!


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